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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759017">Bear With Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuffly/pseuds/Smuffly'>Smuffly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Psych (TV 2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Moments, Romance, Shawn's past, Shules, You're never too old for a bear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:15:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuffly/pseuds/Smuffly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot inspired by a scene in 'Shawn Interrupted'.  This story is made up of moments from Shawn's life.  Because every teddy bear deserves its own little back-story...</p><p>Set in Season Six, but incorporating details from a range of episodes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry Spencer/Madeleine Spencer, Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bear With Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>"What's that?  A teddy bear?"</strong><br/>"<strong>It's</strong> <strong>my</strong> <strong>soul</strong>."<br/><strong>(From</strong>: <strong>'Joe</strong> <strong>Versus</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>Volcano'.)</strong></p><p>
  <strong>-x0x-</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>1985</strong>
</p><p>"It's a cop car."</p><p>"Oh, come on, son.  You didn't even touch it.  Give it a shake."</p><p>"But dad - it's a <em>cop</em> car."</p><p>"No," said Henry Spencer, folding his arms.  Madeleine and her father-in-law looked on with interest but chose to give nothing away as their two stubborn sons faced off in traditional holiday style over a small red parcel.</p><p>"Fine."  Shawn picked it up, shook it with vigour and held it to his ear, pretending to listen intently.  The gag made his grandfather chuckle.  "What's that?  You say you're <em>not</em> a cop car?  Prove it!"  He tore off the wrapper.</p><p>Henry's smile of triumph was sublime.  "See?  I told you.  It's a prison transport vehicle."</p><p>Shawn stared down at the box and tried not to show his disappointment.  "Isn't that the same thing?"</p><p>"Of course not.  Didn't I teach you that already?  Let me explain..."</p><p>"Henry," Maddie interjected.  <em>Not now, honey,</em> said her eyes.  Shawn gave his mother a grateful, sideways smile.  He was seven, which meant he was not above playing one parent off against the other.  But he was also wise enough to patch things up with his father while he still had gifts to open.</p><p>"Thanks, Dad," he said dutifully.  "I'll keep it in my special box with the others."  A special shoebox under his bed, which he hardly ever opened.  One car for Christmas every year since he was three, and all of them the good guys.  Henry was nothing if not consistent.  Still, the look on his father's face right now was worth it.  "It's really great.  I love it.  Prison transport."  He set it down on the rug beside him, thinking of new ways to make the best of a dull situation. <em>What if the prisoners escape?  Take over the bus on a lonely stretch of road?  The cops try to catch them but the chase goes on for hours.  They call in the army - a team of snipers.  Maybe a T-Rex...</em></p><p>"My turn," said Grandpa, leaning forwards in his chair.  He snagged a large green parcel from the pile and tossed it to Shawn, who caught it eagerly.  The boy had been eyeing it up ever since he scrambled downstairs at 5 a.m.  It was soft and squishy.  It was the right size.  <em>Could it be?</em>  "Please," he mumbled.  "Let it be Gizmo."  'Gremlins' was his favourite film of all time, and he loved that little guy.  He had written to Santa last year, without success.  This year, being older and very much wiser, he had left his list lying around in a careful rotation of obvious places.  He couldn't imagine his awesome plan failing.  <em>It is him!  It really is him!</em></p><p>But it wasn't.</p><p>"Oh," said Shawn, as the paper fell away to reveal a plain white bear with a boring old face. He swallowed and looked at his grandfather.  "Um... thanks."</p><p>"You know, Dad, I think Shawn's a little too old for..."  Henry glanced at his wife and subsided.</p><p>"Nonsense.  You're never too old for a bear - right, Shawn?" said Grandpa, looking so proud of himself and his gift.</p><p>It was a testament to the love he bore for the old man that Shawn gave his brightest smile and said: "Of course not!  It's the best thing ever.  I've got a name in mind already..."</p><p>
  <strong>-x0x-</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>1988</strong>
</p><p>The sky was dark by the time they got home from the hospital.  Shawn didn't feel like switching on his bedroom light.  He was afraid to make everything sharp and clear.  In this strange world of shadows, he could imagine he was dreaming.  No need to face the truth just yet.  He closed the door and sat down on the floor beside his bed; curling up tight; blocking everything out.</p><p>Mom and Dad had explained it before they went in, and he thought he understood, but <em>understanding</em> and <em>experiencing</em> were two very different things.</p><p>Grandpa didn't know him.</p><p>Even worse, he didn't recognise his own son.  Shawn watched his father flounder and that was painful too.</p><p>He tried to be entertaining, hoping his jokes and funny antics would make the old man laugh like they always did.  But this was not his grandpa.  This was a hollow man and the look on his face was worse than anything Shawn could ever have pictured from his parents' explanation.</p><p>To lose all your memories!  What would that be like?  Would it happen to Mom and Dad when they grew old?  "And to me?" he whispered, horror-struck.</p><p>Memory was everything.  His brain hoarded moments and they gave him comfort.  He needed that control.  Without it, life would be so empty and confusing.</p><p>From under the bed, a pair of dark eyes stared back at him.  Gizzy had long since been abandoned for the next shiny new thing - but here he was, right when Shawn needed him, just like a true friend.  Just like Gus.  Reaching out, the boy picked up the dusty white bear and cuddled him close.  "I remember Christmas morning," he said quietly.  "I remember Grandpa in his PJs.  He smelled of cinnamon toast."</p><p>Gizmo's face was solemn but Shawn needed that as well.</p><p>"I remember bright red paper.  Mom without her make-up, winking at me when I opened up another pair of socks.  I remember everyone was <em>happy</em>."  His arms were aching but he couldn't let go.  "You're never too old for a bear," he breathed in Gizmo's ear, and meant it.</p><p>
  <strong>-x0x-</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>1994</strong>
</p><p>"Stop staring at me!"</p><p>Shawn threw the stupid white bear across the room in a fit of temper.  Gizmo landed upside down beside the wastepaper basket.  A near miss.  His placid face was more than Shawn could handle right now.</p><p>"It's over.  She's leaving.  He kicked her out.  Don't you <em>get</em> it?" the young man raged, venting all his fury on the helpless, fuzzy creature.  "Stop staring or I'll tear you to pieces and you'll never stare again."</p><p>He sank down onto his bed and dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, grinding away the tears before they had a chance to fall.  Crying was for children.  So were teddy bears.</p><p>Time passed.  The sun went down.  Shawn lifted his head and looked at Gizmo, who was lying in the last thin orange beam of the day.</p><p>"Sorry, man," he muttered.  "Not your fault."</p><p>He slid down onto the floor and picked up the old bear.</p><p>"I don't think I'll ever forgive him this time, Gizzy," he confessed.</p><p>
  <strong>-x0x-</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>2010</strong>
</p><p>Life turns around in ways we could never foretell in our youth.  Wounds heal - <em>and dreams come true, </em>thought Shawn.  His eyes were closed but he could <em>feel</em> the woman in his arms at last.  Not a dream anymore; not since yesterday.  Juliet was warmth and sunlight.  She made him perfectly happy.</p><p>"I've got something for you," he breathed in her ear, and she giggled.</p><p>"That tickles.  What's up?"</p><p>Letting go was difficult.  "Don't move, okay?" he told her solemnly.  "This space is reserved from now on.  My chin, your shoulder.  My arms, your waist.  I've got dibs."</p><p>"I know that, Shawn."</p><p>Opening his eyes, he saw that she was smiling at him.  It was a tolerant smile, but that was fair.  He felt giddy, and the words were tumbling out of him as they always did when he was nervous or sincere.</p><p>He pulled away and left her sitting on the rug.  She lifted a cushion from the couch, hugging it in his absence, and he gave a sheepish grin.  Some habits were catching, apparently.</p><p>His rucksack was in the bedroom.  It was a wrench to leave her, even for a moment.  When he returned, his hands were hidden behind his back.  Juliet looked eager.</p><p>"It's nothing special," he said awkwardly, fearing all at once that he would disappoint her.  "I mean... I mean, it <em>is.</em>  To me, and that's why I want you to have it."</p><p>"Shawn."  He loved the way she said his name.  Dropping the cushion, she rose to her feet and smiled at him.  "Just show me."</p><p>He laid Gizmo carefully in her arms.  Her mouth made a tiny 'o' of astonishment.  "He's not a <em>new </em>bear.  My grandpa...  I got him when I was just a kid.  Seven years old, on Christmas morning."</p><p>Juliet listened in silence, aware there was more he wanted to say.</p><p>"He knows everything.  All my secrets.  I used to whisper them to him at night.  And then, when my...  When my grandpa..."  Shawn shook his head.  "He matters.  Like a friend.  Like Gus."  He leaned in closer, letting his forehead rest on hers.  "Like <em>you</em>.  His name is Gizmo."</p><p>"Why am I surprised?" she teased him gently.</p><p>"Do you like him?"  <em>Do you understand?</em></p><p>Her arms crept around him, the bear nestled safely between them.  "Shawn.  He's the sweetest gift I've ever had."</p><p>
  <strong>-x0x-</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>2011</strong>
</p><p>The night was full of unfamiliar noises.  Shawn felt out of place, and deeply unsettled.  West Haven was a pleasant enough establishment - though one of the nurses could give Mildred Ratched a run for her money - and it had been fun to act crazy all day, but now he was alone and his imagination haunted him.</p><p>Someone down the hall was crying.  Shawn was beginning to understand why.</p><p>Imagine being stuck in here.  Imagine being lost inside your head.  The fear was an old one and that made it strong.  He turned his back on it quickly.</p><p>Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he reached for his overnight bag and tugged it open, looking for a book.</p><p>A little white face stared up at him.  Not Gizmo, but a new friend - and one that he recognised immediately.  Shawn bit his lip and pulled out the bear.  It was soft and smelled of peaches.  A note was tucked beneath it.  "Jules," he murmured, startled by the lump in his throat.  The simple act of kindness, and her understanding, staggered him.</p><p>Hugging the bear to his chest, he unfolded the piece of paper.  It was a short message; just a few lines.</p><p>
  <em>A bear for a bear.  And an early Christmas present.  This one comes with a memory too, for both of us.  Remember?</em>
</p><p>That made him chuckle.  He flopped down onto the bed and tucked the note under his pillow like a lucky talisman.  The bear, he held tightly.  Remember?  Of course he did!  Some moments - some <em>places</em> - were more than special.  Like the gift shop at Prospect Point in Vancouver.</p><p>For the rest of his life, he would <em>never</em> forget.</p><p>"Did you know," he murmured to the bear, as he kissed its fuzzy little head and snuggled down at last.  "That bridge was built by porcupines..."</p><p> </p>
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